Frustration
by paperstorm
Summary: The pain of the vision isn't what has him needing Dean right now. They hurt like hell, but Sam can handle pain. It's everything else. A tag for 'Salvation', 1x21. Part of my Deleted Scenes series, Wincest.


**Part of my Deleted Scenes series. Full list of fics in reading order available on my profile page :)**

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><p>He's half blind from the pain so he has no idea how, but somehow Sam manages to stumble back to the motel he's mostly sure is the one they're staying at. He finds the room he hopes is theirs, and then just hammers on the door because the thought of finding his key and making his trembling fingers work enough to get it into the lock seems like it'll take hand-eye coordination and fine motor skills that Sam doesn't posses right now. His own fist banging against the wood of the door is making his head pound even more, but thankfully it swings open after only a few moments, and Sam catches a brief glance of his brother before his knees give out and he collapses down onto the floor.<p>

"Whoa, Sam!" Dean cries, dropping down with him and grabbing his shoulders. "Sammy, what's wrong? Talk to me, what's going on?"

Sam opens his mouth to try to explain, but all that comes out is a harsh grunt of pain and he squeezes his eyes shut tight against another wave of agony breaking behind them. The visions are always painful, but this one seems worse than the others. It's lasting longer, too. Maybe because Sam's never been this close to the demon before. Maybe things that evil emit some kind of signals, frequencies, whatever, and he's picking up on them. He's vaguely aware that Dean's still talking, his voice frantic and pleading as he begs Sam to tell him what's wrong, but Sam can't. He just buries his face in Dean's neck, without even a thought as to whether Dad's around or not, and finally starts to feel just a little bit better when he feels Dean's arms wrap around him and pull him in close.

"Okay, just … I'm here," Dean says, petting through Sam's hair with one shaky hand. "It's okay, you're okay."

Sam nods, taking a few deep breaths as the pain dissipates just a little, Dean's hand in his hair soothing his aching head. "Demon," he finally manages to mumble weakly.

"What?" Dean asks sharply. "What demon? Where?"

"No, not – no." Sam shakes his head and tries to force his mouth to form the words. The vision's making him dizzy and disoriented this time, and that's never happened before. "Not _a_ demon, _the_ demon."

"You – oh god, you had a vision? You saw the demon?" Dean's voice changes, and Sam feels the moment when he switches from concerned big brother mode into hunter mode. He tugs Sam to his feet, and Sam's too weak to fight him. "Okay, up you get. C'mon, over here."

Dean gets Sam seated on the edge of the closest bed, and then he goes over to the sink and brings Sam a little paper cup filled with water. Sam isn't thirsty, but he drinks it because the look on Dean's face is telling him it'd be useless to argue. Then Dean sits beside him, tucking one leg up under himself so he can face him.

"Tell me what happened."

Sam's headache is mostly gone now, but there's still the occasional throb behind his eyes and it's still scaring him that this one was so much worse than the rest of them. "It's coming, tonight. There's this family, Monica is the woman's name and there's a baby. It's them, Dean, the demon's coming for that family. We gotta stop it, we gotta save them or – "

"Alright, slow down," Dean interrupts, reaching over and massaging the back of Sam's neck gently. "Start at the beginning."

Sam takes another deep breath before he speaks, concentrating on the feeling of Dean's warm hand on his neck to calm him down. "I was coming out of the hospital. All I saw at first was a house, and these, like, lacey curtains. And I heard a train. So I checked the map, found the tracks, and I found the house. And then I met her, the mom. And the baby, Rosie, and she said it was Rosie's six month birthday. And then I couldn't _stop_ seeing it, it was …"

"What?" Dean pushes gently, sliding his arm around Sam's shoulders and pulling him closer again.

"They're always vivid," Sam says softly. "But this one was … I don't know. Worse. Or better, I guess. But it's them, Dean. I saw the demon, I saw Monica up on the ceiling. He's coming for them."

"Okay, look, this isn't necessarily a bad thing," Dean reasons. "I mean, we knew the demon was coming anyway, right? At least now we know who the target is."

"Yeah," Sam mumbles, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off another flair of pain at the base of his skull.

Dean wraps his other arm around Sam too and pulls him in, and Sam can't resist. He leans against Dean's chest, soaking up his brother's warmth and smell and the comforting feeling of Dean's hand in his hair. It's only been a few days since Dad's been around, but Sam feels it. He feels the shift of them going back to being just brothers again, and he doesn't like it. He can go a while without sex, it isn't that. It's the closeness that he's missing. And it isn't the pain of the vision that has him needing Dean right now. They hurt like hell, but Sam can handle pain. It's everything else. It's the hugeness of what's all about to go down – the demon they've been hunting their whole lives, finally being face to face with it, the thought of finally getting revenge and closure and a bunch of other things Sam didn't realize he needed so badly until just now. It's a lot. It's too much, actually. And Sam can tell Dean feels it too.

As if on cue, Dean sighs a little and says, "Look, Sammy, I … I've been putting this off, but … I think we need to tell Dad about all this."

Sam knows he's right; now that he's having visions about the actual demon and not just its victims, it really is time to clue Dad in on what's going on. But he doesn't want to. Sam can't help feeling like letting Dad in to any part of their life without him is just inviting him to pry in places he isn't welcome.

"We don't _have_ to. I mean, I was at the hospital trying to figure out who the demon was going after anyway, we could just tell him I figured it out."

"Sam," Dean begins tiredly, but Sam interrupts him.

"He's gonna think I'm a freak," he admits.

"No he won't," Dean argues.

"Of course he will! And he's right, I am, but I don't want him getting all _Dad_ about it!"

"What does that mean?"

Sam glares at him. "You know what it means. You know as well as I do he isn't gonna take this well. He's been looking my whole life for the thing that's wrong with me, the thing that makes me different from the two of you, 'cause then if I turned out bad it's because of something that's fucked up with _me_, not something he did wrong."

"Seriously? You're really bringing all this shit up again? So he didn't raise us like normal parents do, so we never had a Christmas tree or birthday parties, big fuckin' deal! We both had a shitty childhood, Sam! At some point you're gonna have to let it go!" Dean cries. "Why do you always have to turn everything into a reason to tear him down?"

Sam stands up, suddenly irrationally angry like he always is when they talk about Dad. He promised himself he wasn't going to do this, wasn't going to let Dad get to him and end up putting Dean in the middle. But the vision must have shaken him up more than he realized, because the words tumble out of his mouth in a cascade of pent up anger and frustration and resentment that he couldn't stop if he wanted to. "Because he makes me mad! We've only been back with him for a few days and I already hate it! I hate how he treats us, I hate how he keeps us at arms length but still expects us to be at his beck and call whenever he needs something! And I hate that you let him do all that! The second he walks into the room, it's like you're not even a person anymore!"

"Well c'mon, tell me how you really feel," Dean says sarcastically. "By all means, don't hold back."

Sam chooses to ignore him. "He uses people, Dean. He uses _you_. He takes what he wants from you and then he leaves you with nothing until he needs something again! That's not the way you're supposed to treat someone you love!"

"He's here now, isn't he?"

"That doesn't count."

"Why not?"

"Because he didn't come back for us!" Sam shouts. "He came back because he wanted the Colt! If Elkins hadn't died who the hell knows when we'd have ever seen him again! He was fully prepared to take on the demon by himself, you know that, right? He could've died in this fight and we'd never have known! And you know what, the only reason he's stayed with us this long is because we've become useful to him again! But I guarantee you, the second we're not? He'll be out that door so fast it'll make your head spin."

"Stop it. I'm dead serious," Dean growls menacingly, and the look on his face backs up his words. "I'm not having this fight with you again. I'm a big boy, Sam! I can handle Dad, I don't need you to protect me from him!"

Sam heaves a sigh. "I know you don't, I … I'm sorry. I'm – shit. That damn vision, it just … it freaked me out and it's got me all wound up."

Dean considers him for a moment, a pensive little frown on his face, and then he glances quickly over to the door, like he's checking on something, and then walks over to Sam. He takes Sam's face in his hands and leans up to kiss him. It's sort of the last thing Sam expected his brother to do, but he can't bring himself to pull away. It calms him down, the feeling of Dean's soft lips against his own and Dean's body pressed close to his.

"I miss you too," Dean whispers when they break apart. "I don't love that he's here either, okay? I mean, I missed him and everything, but that you and I can't be … us. It sucks."

Sam just melts into him. How Dean just knows these things, Sam will never know, but he loves that Dean does. "Yeah," he sighs, resting his forehead against Dean's, because he can't think of what else to say. "M'sorry."

"It's okay," Dean says softly, tangling the fingers of one hand in Sam's hair and sliding the other one around his waist. "I know you're just lookin' out for me. But we kinda got bigger fish right now, y'know?"

"I know," Sam agrees. "You're right. He just … I don't know. He has this effect on me, it's like I can't control it. He pisses me off without even doing anything."

"So I guess my hope of us being a big happy family again one day is pretty far-fetched, then, huh?" Dean asks, his eyes smiling.

Sam chuckles and shrugs in spite of himself. "Dude, we were three alpha males living together under one roof. It's no wonder it never worked. You and I can barely stand _each other_ sometimes, even when it's just you and me."

Dean smirks. "It's only kinda hilarious that you consider yourself an alpha male."

Sam shoots him a dirty look and Dean laughs and kisses him again.

"Alright, c'mon," he says. "Let's go get Dad."

"You know he's probably gonna be pissed that we didn't tell him about my psychic thing before now," Sam points out, and Dean shrugs.

"I know. Don't worry, kiddo, I got your back."

"_My_ back?" Sam scoffs. "You're the one he'll be pissed at, man. He blames everything on you."

Dean raises an eyebrow.

"Sorry," Sam laughs. "Habit."


End file.
